


Hierogamy

by Sakon76



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Aged-Up Character, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakon76/pseuds/Sakon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie Bennett grew up and stopped believing four years ago.  But when he's feverish and hallucinating, Jamie's imaginary friend comes back into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Give Me Fever

"Anything I can get for you, man?" his roommate asked for what had to be the fifth time.

Jamie Bennett unburrowed himself enough to glare blearily in David's direction. "No. Leamme alone, I wanna die."

David, to his credit, looked as concerned as amused.

"Go to class," Jamie told him through a throat that felt like a cheese grater. "And don't catch this crud from me."

"You got it. I've got a study group after, so don't wait up."

"Nnn," Jamie said noncommittally, and closed his eyes again. David went out into the hall; the door shutting seemed abnormally loud, and Jamie could track his footsteps all the way to the staircase at the end of the hall. He drifted back to sleep after that.

He woke again some time later, overheated. He struggled against his comforter - when did it get so damn heavy? - and managed to get free of it. The lack of its heat felt so good. Jamie closed his eyes again in relief.

Ugh, his jammies were sweated through. He plucked at the damp fabric, then painfully managed to divest himself of the shirt and trousers. All his muscles ached. Even his hair hurt, which he hadn't thought possible. But when he was done, he laid back down on his bed, and being naked felt even better, little swirls of air moving against his body.

He fell asleep again.

And then woke again, dizzy and burning up.

It was so hot. Why was the room so hot? He needed cold. He needed the winter air. Jamie fell out of his bed, took a moment to recover, then crawled over to the window. He was shaky as he pulled himself up the wall, and he fumbled twice with the latch before managing to open it.

The winter breeze, redolent of snow, was like a balm. Jamie stood there, leaning heavily against the wall, for long minutes, his body shuddering with heat. When his legs finally threatened to give out, he stumbled back to his bed, managing to collapse on it. Jamie's eyes prickled with tears. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be home, where his family would coddle him and his mother knew to leave the window open.

Miserable and feverish, he closed his eyes.

* * *

The third-story dorm window was open. Not just a crack ajar, either, but wide open all the way. Jack paused, surprised, then dove through the air, wanting to check on the inhabitants.

Well. Wanting to check on Jamie.

He landed on the sill, balanced in a perch, and looked within. His eyes were night-adjusted; he could see clearly that one bed was neatly made up, and that the other....

Jack blinked. _My, my._

Hopping off the windowsill, he stepped into the room, snowflakes drifting in his wake like a cape. He absently tapped his staff to the glass of water atop the mini-fridge, freezing it solid. He crouched down by the bed, and reached a hand out to the young man he could no longer touch.

Heat burned off Jamie in waves. Jack's eyes widened.

Daring, he brought his hand closer, not quite touching Jamie's skin. Not quite going through. Because he'd had Jamie pass through him once, and that had nearly broken Jack. He couldn't do it again. He wasn't that strong.

"You're burning up," he murmured. "If even _I_ can tell that, it's definitely not good." His breath hissed through his teeth. "Can't touch you. Can't call for help. And God only knows where that roommate of yours is."

His mouth in a line, Jack stared at Jamie's flushed face for a long minute before doing the only thing he could think of. He tapped the crook of his staff to Jamie's bedsheets, freezing them.

* * *

The shock of cold woke Jamie from hazy, discomforting fever-dreams. He took a breath of appreciation, his fingers brushing over the cool sheets. They were... fuzzy, and slick by turns. He blinked his eyes open, and saw frost silvering the blue cloth. His eyes closed again. He'd loved frost as a kid, been fascinated by its beautiful, intricate patterns.

It felt like home, to have it with him now.

He'd been so enamored that he'd even made up an imaginary friend who brought him frost and snow....

It felt like his fever had kicked up another notch. Jamie whimpered and opened his eyes again, staring into the face of the coolest friend he'd ever had. Some part of him was aware it had to be a hallucination, he was sick, but even so he smiled, reaching out. "Jack..." Jamie breathed.

* * *

Jamie's hand landed on Jack's hoodie, pressed firm against the blue cloth.

Shocked, Jack stared at that hand for a moment, then looked back up at Jamie's fever-bright half-lidded eyes. "Jamie."

At twenty, Jamie's smile was still as sweet as it had been at ten. "You're awful nice for a hallucination," he said, his voice raspy. "I wish you were real, Jack."

Jack bit back tears. "I wish I was real to you too, J."

Jamie's eyes drifted closed; he smiled beatifically. Then he started, coughing harshly several times in a row. "Ow." He'd curled into a ball, his hand now fisted and pressed against his chest.

"You don't look like you're doing too good," Jack said, brushing brown bangs back from a damp forehead. Jamie pushed into the contact. "What can I do to help, Jamie?"

"Nnnn." Jamie took a rough breath. "Too hot."

Setting his staff down, Jack ran his other hand down Jamie's arm. "Better?"

"More," Jamie requested.

Closing his eyes, Jack sighed. Then he clambered over Jamie, pressing up against his back, coaxing him to uncurl.

Jamie breathed hoarse laughter. "Your feet are like ice."

Jack smacked him on the shoulder. His whole front was pressed against the raging heat of Jamie's back. "Kind of the point, J."

"'S good." Jamie was silent for a long time. Long enough that Jack thought he might have fallen back asleep. But, "Where do you go when people stop believing?" Jamie asked. Jack stiffened slightly; that was _tears_ he heard in Jamie's voice.

He swallowed. "I didn't go anywhere, Jamie." His own voice sounded a little rough. "You just stopped seeing me."

Jamie squirmed, turned over so they were face-to-face. "I forgot, didn't I?" he asked. "I grew up."

"Everyone does," Jack said. Being seen was better than being invisible, but, oh, losing each believer hurt. And losing Jamie had hurt more than the rest of them combined. Somehow he'd thought that Jamie would keep his belief forever.

Jamie looked at him for a minute, then wrapped his burning arms around Jack, pulled him close. "Are you a hallucination?" he whispered.

Jack shook his head, tucked beneath Jamie's chin. Jamie wasn't _so_ much taller than he was, but then for the modern era Jack was pretty short. "I'm real."

Jamie's fingers ran up and down the back of Jack's sweatshirt, right over his spine. He didn't say anything for a long time.

* * *

Jamie's thoughts ran in blurred circles. Maybe Jack was real. Of course, a hallucination would try to convince him it was real, too. But hallucinations were usually only visual and auditory, weren't they? He couldn't be imagining Jack's delicious chill. Or the texture of the icy hoodie under his fingers.

He tugged at it. "Does this come off?"

A sigh into his collarbone. "Jamie...."

"Does it?" He didn't know why he wanted to know, but he did. Jack had never changed clothes as long as Jamie had known him.

Another sigh. "Sure." Jack sat up, taking that delicious cold away, and pulled the sweatshirt over his head, giving a glimpse of a white shirt underneath. Both garments were thrown on the floor, and then Jack was laying back down next to Jamie, skin against skin.

And, oh, Jack was even cooler under his clothes. Jamie pressed up hard against him, leeching off that chill. His fingers strummed along Jack's back. Eventually, he wondered, "Why can I count your ribs?"

Jack breathed out against him. "Do you remember that I told you I drowned, a long time ago?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That was a hard winter even before then."

"Oh." Jamie momentarily felt small and stupid. Which was a dumb way to feel over someone who probably wasn't even real.

But Jack _felt_ real.

Jack sighed. "It was a long time ago, Jamie."

A thought occurred then to Jamie. He wanted to make it better for Jack, which was stupid considering it was three-hundred-year-old imaginary trauma, so he really couldn't. But he could give what he could. "I can't get you sick, can I, Jack?"

He felt the brushing sensation of Jack shaking his head. "Haven't gotten sick in three hundred and ten years."

"Then...." Jamie pushed back, squiggled down a little. Touched his mouth to Jack's. Didn't look away.

Jack's eyes were impossibly lovely in the moonlight, impossibly big as Jamie kissed him. But he didn't move away either. At least not until Jamie tried sneaking tongue into it. Then he jerked back and didn't stop staring. "Jamie, you can't... you can't do that to me."

"Why not? Are you straight?"

Jack swallowed. "When this fever breaks, when you're better... you're going to go back to not believing in me, Jamie. You think I'm a hallucination. And I can't take... that, from you, just to lose it tomorrow."

"And if I don't stop believing?"

"You _will._ " Jack looked scared.

Jack should never, ever look scared. Jamie stroked the long, chilly line of his pale torso. "Even if I do stop believing again... which would you regret more, later? Kissing me? Or not kissing me?" And why was he trying frat-boy pickup lines on a figment of his imagination?

It was a very long quiet minute before Jack closed his eyes, drew a shuddering breath, and admitted in a very small voice, "Not."

"Then don't regret it." Jamie leaned forward, kissing Jack's cool mouth again.

* * *

Jamie's mouth was like liquid heat. And Jack never felt cold, though he knew he was to others, but... neither had heat had ever intoxicated him like this. He wanted to feel warm. He wanted to lose himself in Jamie's heat. He didn't want to _care_ that Jamie didn't think he was real.

Except that he did care.

Whether he pulled away now, or went through with this, either way, Jack knew he was going to break his own heart. _Better to have the memories,_ his mother's voice whispered to him from a century long gone. She'd been talking about his father. _Better to live and lose, Jack, than never live at all._

Jack wanted to sink into Jamie's heat, warm himself by it, and never let go.

"Jack," Jamie breathed against his mouth. Jack opened his eyes, not having realized he'd closed them. Jamie's eyes were fever-bright still and luminous in the dark. "What do you want?"

"I don't even--" Jack bit his lip. "What do _you_ want?"

Hot fingers ran up his back, cupped his cheek. "I want you to fuck me," Jamie said, smiling dazedly, like this was all a dream. "I want to feel you cold and hard inside me...."

Jack laughed, just a little. College boy apparently had some experience with this; he himself had almost no idea how one would go about such a thing. "You just want me for my body temperature," he accused, running his hand down Jamie's back. He stopped at the waist, not daring to go farther.

Surely, he thought, he was about to go to hell.

"Mmm." Hallucinating or not, Jamie's smile was still dazzling. "It's a definite plus," he admitted. His own hands felt no compunction about having to stop at Jack's waist.

"Jamie," Jack was forced to admit, ignoring the hands on his ass, "I don't have--"

"I do," Jamie cut him off. He reached behind himself, nearly falling off the bed, fumbled around beneath it, knocked something over, then apparently found what he wanted.

A bottle of hand lotion.

Jack took it, wondering what he was supposed to do with it. He propped himself up on one elbow. "Jamie...."

Fingers hooked into the waist of his trousers, and tugged. "Off," Jamie suggested.

Sighing, Jack set the bottle atop the mini-fridge at the head of the bed. He could wing this. Somehow. Batting Jamie's heated hands away, he untied the cords that held the trousers to his legs, then unfastened the waist buttons and flap. Jamie's fingers immediately came back, delving beneath the cloth to grope Jack's rear. Jack glared. "You're not helping."

Fingers kneaded; Jamie smiled almost drunkenly. Jack rolled his eyes and ignored the heated touch, divesting himself of his last garment, trying to pretend he _wasn't_ as naked as the day he'd been born. Conscious of Jamie's gaze all the while.

* * *

"Oh, Jack," Jamie murmured appreciatively, " _very_ nice." He pressed his hand against the winter spirit's half-hard penis. Jack sucked in a gasp, his cool member coming fully to life in Jamie's hand. Jamie stroked it slowly, once, twice, not missing the way Jack stopped breathing, the way his stomach shuddered.

Part of Jamie wanted to play with those reactions. But an even larger part wanted to feel the prize in his hand inside himself.

Slowly, Jack's hand touched Jamie's cock. Jamie hissed through his teeth, head falling back in delight at the cool touch. Only to have Jack jerk away. Jamie whimpered, found Jack's hand, and pressed it firmly back against him.

Jack breathed a laugh. "Like that?" he asked, stroking up and down.

"God, yes." Jack's touch was slowly becoming firmer, more confident, as he played. If he felt as cool as fresh-fallen snow to Jamie, was Jamie like bubbling magma to him? Because that was what Jamie felt like. "You gonna prep me?"

"Prep you?" Jack's hand paused for a moment.

Jamie nodded, dark eyes on Jack's blue. " _With_ the lotion. I... don't like raw." He'd tried it that way precisely once, and learned to regret it.

"All right." Jack reached for the bottle of lotion, pumped some onto his hand. His expression held something glittering and fragile, something Jamie didn't know how to read, as he asked, teased, really, "And just where would you like this?"

"Jaaaaaack," Jamie groaned, even as he grabbed Jack's wrist and pulled it between his spreading legs, ending up touching Jack's fingers to his pucker.

"Oh. Um." Jack's face was flustered for a moment, then he recovered, smirk sliding back into place even as he rubbed his fingers against his palm, coating them in cold lubricant. "This'll be cold," he warned, one icy finger pressed against Jamie's entrance.

Which was the _point_ , Jamie thought, then that thought broke up into pieces as Jack slowly pressed in, and oh holy stars it felt right, that cold touch inside him.

"More," Jamie demanded.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Anything you say, o master. I live to serve, o master...." His finger wriggled back out of Jamie, then was joined by a second. Jamie groaned and rocked his hips against that touch, against Jack's hand on him.

Now Jack's eyes really were glittering, with amusement, with affection, with something that Jamie could only label _heat_. The winter spirit languidly pumped Jamie's erection, teasing horribly by thrusting his fingers in and out of Jamie's ass far too slowly. Their crooked tips just barely brushed against Jamie's prostate, making him whimper. He wanted _more_. Harder deeper faster, whatever. He curled his hand around Jack's pale cock, measuring abstractedly.

Two fingers was not going to cut it.

"More," Jamie demanded.

Jack's dark brows rose into his pale hair. "You sure, J?"

"Yesss," Jamie hissed, wiggling his ass. "More."

Jack looked less sure, but said, "Whatever you say," and obeyed. And, okay, that third finger stung a little and felt awkward, but on the other hand, it felt so good, so _right_ that Jamie groaned in pleasure as Jack's fingers worked him.

Jamie's fingers scrambled blindly for the bottle of lotion, found it. He pumped some into his hand, knocked the bottle away. He heard it fall to the floor. Palming Jack's erection, he slicked it.

He wasn't expecting Jack to tense. Wasn't expecting the pale fingers to hit his prostate hard. Jamie shouted, helpless against the _want_ that swamped him for a second.

"Oh, God, Jamie--"

"Jack," Jamie managed, "I want you to fuck me. Now."

Jack's face was right over his, pale and fine-boned, his impossibly blue irises almost eclipsed by the black of his pupils. Jamie had never seen Jack's eye color on anyone else. He knew he never would. "How do you want me?" Jack breathed.

He wanted Jack in him all the way, to the very hilt. In reply, Jamie turned over, Jack's fingers slipping from him. He lined up his ass and Jack's cock, nudging down until the tip parted his cheeks, pressed against the opening. Jack's fingers, trembling slightly, landed on Jamie's hip, steadying him, giving Jack leverage. Then Jack slowly pressed forward until the head of his cock made it past the ring of muscle at Jamie's entrance.

* * *

Jamie gave an inarticulate cry that Jack almost didn't hear over the pounding of the blood in his ears. Jamie was even hotter inside than out, and so tight. Jack couldn't help the buck of his hips that wrung a second sound, a gasp, from Jamie.

Oh God.

Jamie moaned, "More, Jack," and Jack couldn't have disobeyed if his life had been on the line. His fingers tightened on Jamie's hip as he pressed forward, deeper. Every inch felt so damned good.

No wonder he'd been taught, lifetimes ago, that this was a sin.

By the time Jack was fully in, Jamie was gasping and whimpering and shuddering, and Jack was surprised to realize that so was he. "Jack," Jamie managed, and reached blindly to find Jack's hand, pulled it forward to his raging erection. Jack curled his fingers around that hard heat and stroked it as he pulled out.

In and out, and in and out, and sometimes he was hitting something that made Jamie shout his name, so Jack gritted his teeth against what his body wanted and concentrated on finding that sweet spot again. Something was curling up in his belly, something hot and tight and strange. Then Jamie gasped, his body tensing like a bowstring. Scalding liquid boiled over Jack's hand. Something in Jack's head said Jamie had just come, but something older and deeper didn't care, only cared that the body around him had, impossibly, grown _tighter_ , and it ferally slammed his hips deeper, once, twice--

Jack keened, and the hot-tight-strange thing in him broke. Shuddering waves of pleasure, so intense it almost hurt, spilled through him as he spilled cold deep into Jamie's body.

He was left empty, gasping against Jamie's back.

Not that the college student was much better, shuddering wordlessly in front of him.

Eventually, what seemed like centuries later, Jack's breathing calmed. He pressed a cool kiss to the back of Jamie's neck, and slowly pulled out. Jamie whimpered a little, but made no other response. His member was limp in Jack's hand. In fact, he was....

Jack scooted back. Jamie rolled into the space he'd vacated, sound asleep.

Touching the college student's forehead with the hand _not_ covered in come, Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Jamie was still warm, but his fever had definitely broken. Jack watched the sleeping human for a moment, feeling an odd mix of content and sad, then made his way over Jamie. He found a box of tissues, and used it to clean off the both of them. He redressed, sitting on the edge of the bed to tie his trousers back tight to his calves. When he stood, he looked down at Jamie, pale in the moonlight, and frowned as he noticed small goosebumps forming on the human's skin. "Too cold for you?" Jack murmured, and tossed Jamie's comforter back over the human.

Finding his staff, Jack turned toward the window, then paused. He went back to Jamie and knelt down beside him. "I've never had anything like that before," Jack said quietly to the sleeping human. "Even if it was just a dream or a hallucination to you... thank you, Jamie." He pressed a kiss to Jamie's mouth.

Jamie's lips parted, giving him deeper access. Jack went with it, knowing it was the last time he'd ever get to kiss the young man. When he finally pulled away, he was smiling, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight. "Good night, Jamie."

"Mm," Jamie murmured as he shifted, turning onto his side. "Jack..." he said in his sleep.

Jack paused, then went to the window. "Sweet dreams, kiddo," he said, and left the dorm room, kicking the window closed behind himself.

* * *

**Author's Note:** "Hierogamy" is a sacred, divine, or holy marriage. Essentially, a union either with or between gods. The word seems to be typically used in a "symbolic ritual" sense, but I chose to interpret it a bit more literally. What is it about this fandom that makes me use three-dollar/SAT words for titles?


	2. Like Cupid and Psyche

The boy came to North flushed an odd purple color. North supposed it came of the frozen blood in his veins; Jack Frost could not, and did not, blush the pink that a living human might. But the young Guardian's embarrassment was obvious as he hemmed and hawed, poked at the newest toy models, and danced around whatever it was that so obviously was on his mind.

North sat back and watched in amusement. He waited patiently. He could afford to enjoy this rare awkwardness from the usually self-confident winter spirit. He had the time. It was only January, after all; the Pole's annual production rush would not pick up until at least March.

Finally Jack circled around to what he had come seeking advice about. He threaded pale fingers through the even paler hair on the back of his head, and, looking nowhere near North, asked, "So, um, is it allowed for spirits to... interact with humans?"

Oh, so _that_ was what had the boy nervous! North reined in his laughter before it bubbled and chortled out of him. "Of course it is!" he said instead. "Bringing joy to children is what we do!"

"But... but what about adults?" Jack was biting his lower lip.

"Adults... they do not see us." North waved a hand in dismissal. It was perhaps cruel of him, and bit of a lie to boot, but he wanted to pry the full story out of Jack.

"But what if one did?"

North raised an eyebrow. "Something you wish to tell me, Jack?"

"Not really," the boy muttered. North waited. Jack swallowed and looked away again. "It's... I was visiting Jamie. And I know he can't see me, okay! But just because he stopped believing doesn't mean that I stopped caring."

North nodded, wanting to see where this story went.

"His dorm window was open, so I snuck in, but... he was sick, North! Really sick. He was burning up so bad he started hallucinating. And..." Jack swallowed again, harder than before. "He could see me again, North. He _believed_! I could touch him."

Startled, North straightened. "Jamie could...?"

Jack nodded, and his eyes were very wide and very blue and very nearly shining with tears.

"Hmm." North leaned back. "So what happened then?"

"I..." Jack bit his lip, looked away, looked back. "I climbed into bed with him. I'm cold; I thought it might help break his fever. Jamie... just kind of cuddled up to me. Like I was his own personal heater. Cooler. Whatever."

"Mmm-hmm." North went in for the kill. "And then?"

Jack looked very small all of a sudden. "We... might've...." His voice trailed off into nothing, a muteness as expressive as Sandy's. Though that was not fair; the Sandman had an excellent poker face. Jack's was, frankly, lousy.

"You had relations," North said.

"Yes. I mean, no!"

North raised an eyebrow again. "Yes, no, which is it, Jack?"

Jack looked away. "...Yes," he admitted.

"Ha!" North slapped his knee, delighted that his guess was correct.

Jack stared at him.

"So, did your plan work?" North asked the boy, smiling. "Did the fever break?"

"Yeah, he was sleeping when I left." Jack's expression faltered. "North, what do I do? I mean, what if he can't see me again?" Jack swallowed. "What if he _can_?" he whispered.

North stroked his beard. "If he cannot see you again, well, at least you had that much with him, no?" he asked, and Jack nodded, though it was obvious it wasn't the answer he wanted. "You care, Jack. And, fever or no, I do not think Jamie Bennett would allow such liberties if he did not care too."

"And if he can?"

"Then, you have _options_ , Jack."

"You mean... it's not, it's not forbidden or something?" Jack's face was practically a study in hope.

"Bah! You need to study more history, Jack! Spirits, humans, we have been marrying, making love for long time. Is not so common as it used to be, but... never forbidden."

"Not even for Guardians?"

North shook his head, smiling. "Not even for Guardians. You would not think so to look, but Sandy, he is quite the ladies' man! Tooth has had many lovers. And Bunny, well..." His smile turned sly. "Spring, they say, is about hope, and new beginnings, yes? But is also time of rejuvenating life, and old, old fertility rites."

It took a minute, but he saw his meaning sink in; Jack flinched. "Oh, God, bad mental images," Jack groaned. "Brain bleach... I need brain bleach."

"Has been a long time for Bunny," North allowed. "I think, though, he is yielding to nature. I see him looking at possible new priestess, if she continues to believe for a few more years."

"A new..." Jack blanched. "Tell me you don't mean who I think you mean."

North shrugged.

"She's thirteen!"

"She will not always be so. Bennett family will be particularly blessed, if works out. Daughter, priestess of spring. Son..." North's gaze remained on Jack. "Son, consort of winter."

Jack's mouth worked silently for a moment. His eyes were wide and unseeing. It was like, North thought, no one was at home. Then the boy shuddered, shedding whatever thoughts had locked him up.

"So," North prompted, "Jamie?"

Jack looked away for a moment. His expression seemed torn. "It's okay?" he asked softly. "That we're both guys?"

North sighed, a little sad. Unlike himself, Jack, he knew, had been brought up in a civilized household. And that civilized household had no doubt been ruled by the precepts of its time, which had not been so kind to same-gender relations as the modern era. "Love is love, Jack. This outside," North said, waving at his own body, "does not matter so much as the spirit within. If you love, and he loves... bah, to this notion of sin! Ask Sandy; he is older than rest of us put together. Or ask Manny, if you want broader view than that of Earth."

Jack thought about that for a moment, then nodded. "So, what do I do?" Jack asked again.

"What do you do? Is simple, Jack! You track down boy, see if he sees you, then go from there. Lovers, friends, is all good!"

Jack's expression was unreadable. "His friends, his family, his classmates... they're all going to think he's crazy, talking to thin air. I can't _do_ that to him, North!"

"Jack." North stood, placed a hand on each of Jack's shoulders, leaned in close enough to catch the smell of winter. "What people around him will see is that Jamie is maybe a little odd. He will laugh at nothing. He will dance with snowflakes. And he will be radiantly happy."

"North...."

"He will be winter's lover. Your lover! Nothing is more powerful than love and protection of spirit. Those who try to speak against him will find themselves ignored. Those who attempt to sabotage him, will themselves be undermined. And those who wish him well..." North remembered his own experiences. "Those who wish him well, they may even see you."

Jack looked at North, really _looked_ at him. "Why isn't there a Mrs. Claus?" he asked slowly.

North smiled enigmatically. "Why do you think there is not?"

* * *

Jamie woke from the best sleep he'd had since he was a kid. He was still stiff and aching, that after-sickness feel, but his mind was clear and his mouth, oddly, tasted like mint.

David must have come back some time while he was unconscious; Jamie's roommate was fast asleep in his own bed. Looking at the clock, Jamie couldn't blame him; it was only six in the morning, a whole hour before their alarm went off. Dim daylight crept around the edges of the curtain; the room was warm, so David must have shut the window when he came back.

But, oh, the cold had felt so good....

Jamie reached for the glass of water just beyond the head of his bed. It was all wet with condensation. When he picked it up, ice softly thunked inside. It took a minute to focus, but....

Jamie's eyes widened. It looked like the cup's contents had _frozen solid_ at some point during the night, and only slowly been melting since. There was still a wide ice core floating inside. Thirsty, Jamie drank what he could, then put the glass back. He wanted a shower, to wash off the sense of sick ickiness, and then he wanted to change his bedsheets. He sat up.

His breath caught.

What. The. Hell?

Sleeping naked was one thing; his ass feeling like he'd gotten laid was something else entirely. Gingerly, he touched himself, as if to check.

His own touch prompted a memory of the feeling of cool fingers, slick with hand lotion. He remembered blue eyes, luminous in the dark. He remembered something larger than fingers, more solid, pressing inside him, blessedly cold.

Cold lips on his, a deliciously cold body pressed against him, a familiar voice breaking as the spirit whispered, "Oh, God, Jamie--"

He couldn't do this in his dorm room. He couldn't think about Jack here and now; he'd hyperventilate and he'd wake David and his roomie would think Jamie had finally gone absolutely nuts.

Jamie wasn't entirely sure he hadn't.

Jamie found his robe, grabbed some clean clothes and his toiletries basket, and fled to the showers. They, at least, would be empty at this hour.

He could break down there.

* * *

The shower water steamed in the air as he washed his hair, his face, his body. He was careful when cleaning his ass, because he didn't want to think about it. Jamie Bennett had stopped believing in fairy tales four years ago. He'd grown up. He'd stopped dreaming.

Without thinking about it, he turned the shower to cold. The icy water had the opposite effect of what it was supposed to.

Looking at his renewed erection, Jamie thought it might be possible that he'd developed a fetish.

_This is all Jack's fault,_ he thought, and shut off the water.

* * *

All that day, all Jamie could think about were kisses like snowflakes. His class notes were absolute shit.

And when he was in the quad, or between classes, or staring out his window, doodling in his notebook instead of working, all he could think about was someone that he knew couldn't exist.

(His heart said different.)

"If I was a one-night stand, Jack," Jamie murmured, "you are in _so much trouble_."

* * *

That Saturday, the whole campus woke to a night-delivered layer of fresh snow, white and fluffy and just right for packing into snowballs. Jamie valiantly resisted until after breakfast, then he flung himself into play with a whoop, joining the battle in the quad. His eyes kept tracking, though, looking for something (someone) that wasn't there.

Until Jamie turned, and he was.

Jack Frost stood near the edge of the snowy mound, leaning on his staff, a fond look on his face as he watched the college students play with what he'd given them. No one else seemed to see him. He even skipped nimbly out of the way when a student threatened to run into (through) him.

Jamie's mouth was dry. He didn't know what to do, to say.

...There was a snowball still in his hand.

And, okay, maybe he'd hung out with Jack for way too many years, because as soon as he thought it, Jamie couldn't resist.

The snowball nailed Jack solidly on the side of the head.

The winter spirit was actually knocked to the ground, which Jamie hadn't been expecting. Jack picked himself up quickly, though, shaking the snow off, and stared at Jamie, who was staring at him.

A slow smirk curled on Jack's face. A wave of his staff produced a new flurry of white, coming down thickly from the sky, and in its disguising veil, Jack flew over to Jamie and took his hand, pulling him toward the dorm building.

* * *

Well, that was one question answered. Jamie could most definitely see Jack still. Again. Whichever. And the twenty-year-old's hand was solid in his, all the way across the quad, into the building, up the three flights of stairs, and into the (thankfully empty) dorm room. Jack only let go to allow him to shed coat, hat, and scarf. Jamie stared at him for a moment longer, then toed off his shoes as well and sat on his neatly-made bed, legs crossing under himself to tuck his toes into the corners of his bent knees. It was an old, familiar position to see him in.

Feeling unexpectedly hesitant, Jack leaned his staff against the wall, then sat next to Jamie.

Jamie bit his lip, brown eyes still staring wide and believing at Jack, then said, "So, you're real."

Jack nodded. "I am."

"And... the other night?"

Jack examined the cheap carpet. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what Jamie wanted. "Whatever you want it to be."

Jamie drew in a long breath, then let it out, shuddering slightly. "I hurt you, didn't I? Stopping believing...."

Jack shrugged, not looking up to meet Jamie's eyes. He didn't want Jamie to see just how much it _had_ hurt. It wasn't like it had been deliberate, anyway. Jamie didn't need the guilt. "I'm used to it."

"That doesn't mean it's right." Jamie hesitated, then placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. "Jack, I...." His voice dropped away. "Oh, fuck it," Jamie swore, and suddenly his mouth was on Jack's.

Jack's eyes went wide and stared into Jamie's determined ones. Then Jamie's eyes closed. Gentle pressure bore Jack down. It was like sinking into a snowdrift. Jack ended up on Jamie's bed, Jamie atop him.

Jack was feeling fairly melted by the time Jamie pulled away.

Jamie grinned at him. "So is that an icicle in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" he quipped.

Jack did not-- he was not-- Oh, hell, he was.

Glowering, he grabbed Jamie's pillow from under his head and whapped the college boy with it.

Jamie didn't stop grinning. "So," he summed up, "I'm sorry for being an insensitive jerk and stopping believing in you. You're sorry for taking advantage of me in my compromised state. Anything else we need to cover?"

Jack considered their situation. "No, that's about it."

"Good. Wanna fuck?"

Jack felt caught between horrified and delighted. "You have a filthy mouth, Jamie Bennett."

Jamie smiled. "Want to see what I can do with it?"

Jack smirked. "I could be convinced."

"Good. Stay there." Jamie pushed off the bed, rummaged through a dresser drawer, opened the door, tied a bandanna around the knob, and shut the door again.

Jack raised an eyebrow.

Jamie blushed a little. "Signal David and I agreed on," he muttered, and came back to the bed. Jack sat back up as Jamie sat back down. "So," he said, and now it was his eyes not meeting Jack's, "do you bottom too, or just top?"

Jack had been around enough to figure out what Jamie meant. "Don't know," he said, shrugging. "Want to find out?"

Oddly, that made Jamie stop. Brown eyes looked at him seriously. "Um... Jack, am I your first?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "When I was alive, I was what you people call a Puritan. We didn't really go in for this whole licentiousness thing," he said, giving a nebulous wave of his hand. "And since then, I haven't exactly been visible, let alone tangible, to a lot of people above the age of consent."

"But... I mean, you never hooked up with another spirit or anything?"

"Spirits don't tend to 'hook up' with each other. Mostly, I think, because if it goes sour, we keep running into one another for a _long_ time afterward, which sucks."

"Um." Jamie's eyes were wide. He looked down at his hands in his lap. "You weren't my first," he confessed.

Jack snorted. "I kind of figured."

"I... kind of wish you had been." Jamie looked back up. "But I was stupid, and I forgot, and hormones, and college, and being away from home--"

"Hey, whoa," Jack stopped him. "I don't mind that I wasn't your first, Jamie. I mean, imagine if I had been! Two virgins, no clue."

"There is this thing," Jamie drawled, "called the _Internet_...."

"I'm serious, Jamie." Jack took a deep breath. "I'm glad you figured this out with other people. Now," he asked, "I do have to know, though... are you going out with anyone? Got anything serious going on?"

Jamie shook his head. "Not for a while. And, I wasn't stupid. I always used protection. Except for the other night."

Jack rolled his eyes. "You kind of weren't in your right mind."

Jamie paused for too long. "I don't think it was that," he said finally. "I think... it was because it was you. And if I wanted the real thing with anyone...."

It felt like a kick in the chest. Jack had to consciously remember to breathe. He reached out slowly, laced his fingers with Jamie's. "J?" he asked. Brown eyes met his. "How serious do you want this to be?"

It was a minute before Jamie answered. "I think I want everything, Jack." His voice was soft. "I've been with other guys, and some girls - I'm bi, did you know? - and none of them felt right. You do."

"But will you still want me twenty years from now?" Jack had to ask. "Don't you want someone the rest of the world can see? Someone you can marry and have kids with and, I don't know, introduce around at parties or something?"

Jamie gave it thought, then shook his head. "I want you."

Very slowly, Jack leaned in. Pressed his lips against warm, moist ones. Breathed in the musk-detergent-sweat scent of Jamie. Delved his tongue into the hot, wet mouth beyond those lips. Jamie tasted of bacon, and maple syrup. Never once did Jack look away.

His breath frosted in the air at the end of the kiss. So did Jamie's. "I'll always give you the option to walk away," Jack murmured to his lover. "But if you want me... God, Jamie, I want you."


	3. Shifting Perceptions

Four Years Later

Jamie ran his hand through his hair, frustrated with his assignment, and decided to take a break. Maybe some fresh air would give him some inspiration, he thought, shrugging on his coat. If not... well, his boss wouldn't be happy in the morning, but Jamie's neck wasn't exactly on the chopping block either.

He ignored the rickety elevator in favor of walking down the stairs to the apartment building's ground floor. It was almost midnight, and the elevator was noisy; his neighbors wouldn't have been best pleased with him using it. Besides, he needed to move some, to get his blood flowing again.

It was cold and dark out, he noted as he hit the street. Not quite freezing yet, but hovering within a few degrees of it. He smiled, wondering if there would be snowfall by morning, and if so, how much. Closing his eyes, he reached _inward_ , looking for that sense of Jack Frost, looking to find out if his partner was in town. Or even in the hemisphere.

Jamie's brown eyes opened, a little surprised. And a lot delighted. Not only was Jack pretty close, but Jamie even had a sense of in what direction. Odds were that he was either checking in on the sleeping kids in Jamie's old neighborhood, or spending some time at his pond.

Enjoying the silence of the empty streets, Jamie strolled in that direction.

It wasn't too much later that he entered the woods, not yet having found Jack. The night and the trees cast everything into darkness, but Jamie had been walking these paths all his life, and knew where he was going. It was practically a hop, skip, and jump to find the clearing where Jack's pond lay.

Jamie's mouth went dry as he stepped out from the trees.

The midnight water was ink-black, and the clearing was utterly quiet. The only motion was that of the naked teenager, sleek as a seal, swimming in the pond, his hair and skin glowing white in the light of the full moon.

Jamie must have made some sound, because Jack stopped and looked at him. A luminous smile broke out on the winter spirit's face; he beckoned to his lover. Jamie smiled, obliging, sitting down on the shoreline log that held Jack's clothing and staff. Jack swam closer. "You look happy," Jamie said.

"One last swim before I freeze it over." Jack splashed a little water toward Jamie. "Come in, the water's fine."

Jamie laughed. "The water's just above freezing, you mean. No thank you."

Jack tilted his head to one side, still treading water. "I won't let you freeze," he said, his voice soft and serious. "Come swim with me, Jamie."

Jamie hesitated a moment, then lifted a hand to his neck, unwinding his scarf.

Jack's grin could have lit the sky as he watched Jamie strip down.

"Ick!" Bare, Jamie wiggled his toes for a moment in the icy mud at the pond's edge, then waded forward. He took careful breaths, trying futilely to make himself adjust to the cold-cold- _toogoddamncold_ water. When it was to his waist, and he couldn't feel anything below that, he steeled himself and ducked all the way under, swimming blindly forward. Surfacing, he was sure he was going to regret this. Regret giving in to Jack's request the way he always did. But he was an absolute sucker for the winter spirit, and could never say no. "I'm going to get pneumonia," Jamie announced through chattering teeth. "I'm going to get s-sick again, and you're going to have to f-fuck the fever out of me. I c-can feel it already." He shuddered, feeling the ice cold of the water sink into him, into his bones.

Jack was only an arm's length away. He swam forward, until they were almost chest-to-chest, and rested one pale, fine-boned hand on Jamie's chest.

Heat flushed through Jamie, keeping the cold at bay. Or at least tolerable. He took an appreciative, relieved breath.

"Better?" asked Jack.

"Yes. Thanks."

Jack grinned at him. Jamie grinned back. "Tag, you're it!" he announced, and splashed water at the winter spirit, diving away.

Jack's laughter rang across the clearing. "Oh, you're on!" He gave chase.

Half an hour or maybe half the night later, they were both tired, breathing heavy, and holding on to one of the rocks that jutted from the pond's center like an island. Well, Jamie was holding on to the rock. Jack was holding onto Jamie.

With their faces so close to one another, legs already tangled underwater, the kiss came as natural as breathing.

"Mmm," said Jamie in appreciation, his eyes sliding closed.

"Mmm," said Jack in appreciation, pressing closer, his hand reaching out to touch the water.

Ice formed under them, spreading and displacing water, rising, floating.

As the sheet of ice bore them to the surface, Jamie's hand fell away from the rock, coming to rest instead on the small of Jack's back.

"Jamie," Jack whispered against his lips, "I want you."

Jamie's eyes, earth-brown, opened, looking up into Jack's glowing winter-blue ones. Rather than speak, he opened his mouth again and pulled Jack down for another kiss.

* * *

Sophie stomped through the woods, still mad and not bothering to hide it. Becca was such a freaking idiot, and a liar to boot! She was going to ask, no, _beg_ to get assigned a different partner for this project. She'd solo it, if she had to, rather than work with that back-stabbing, two-faced witch!

Her mother would be mad that she hadn't stayed the night like planned. She'd probably be even more upset about Sophie walking back herself rather than calling for a ride. But it was only a mile, and she'd been walking these woods all her life. Nothing was going to happen.

She frowned as she pushed back a whip-thin branch, deciding to take the shortcut that led right past Jack's pond. The moon was full tonight; the clearing should be well-lit.

It took a moment for the noises to penetrate through Sophie's haze of fury. When they did, she paused. She didn't know what animal was making them, it could be wolves, or a bear--

Then a distinctly human "Oh, God!" came through, and her panic dissolved. Blinking, and more than a little curious, she snuck forward. She knew the cleanup crews found discarded used condoms during the summer months, but it was too late in the year, she reasoned, too _cold_ for anyone to be having sex in the forest.

Except, she saw, apparently not.

She froze between two trees at the edge of the clearing. There were two people in the middle of the pond, lying on a... was that an _ice floe_?!

Her confusion became somewhat less opaque as the figure on top lifted his head. No one else on Earth, and certainly no one in Burgess, had the same hair, the same grin as Jack Frost. "Ready?" he asked the other person.

"I was ready twenty minutes ago," the other person said, and Sophie about had a heart attack as she recognized the voice.

"Pushy, pushy," Jack teased, and wiggled up from between his partner's legs and repositioned himself atop Jamie.

Sophie looked away, absolutely could not watch, _refused_ to watch, as her brother fucked Jack Frost. Since when was Jamie gay? Since when was he together with Jack? She clapped her hands to her ears as intertwined moans echoed across the clearing.

That water had to be _freezing_ , she thought. Jack wouldn't have a problem with it, but how the hell was Jamie handling the temperature? She glared up at the moon, fancying that it (he) seemed entirely too pleased with the situation.

Her eyes caught on the tableau below again, the pair of them all silver and black, like a manga line art drawing, or one of those doujinshi her friend Candace liked. Sophie's hands drifted away from her ears.

"Yes! There!" Jack demanded.

"Oh, God, Jack." Jamie was thrusting up, his hands on Jack's hips.

"Jamie!" Jack Frost's voice nearly broke. "Please!"

Sophie whirled, and bolted.

She ran all the way home. She was panting by the time she got there, and had a stitch in her side. She fished her key out of her backpack and snuck in, trying to control her breathing. Toeing off her shoes, she crept up the stairs, sticking to the quiet spots, the non-creaky boards route she and Jamie had practiced for years, sneaking downstairs to see North on Christmas Eve.

Sophie made it to her bedroom safe and sound and shut the door behind herself. She set her backpack on the floor and hurriedly stripped, pulling on her pajamas before ducking under her cold sheets.

 _Icy,_ she thought, wondering what it felt like to her brother to have Jack touch him like... that. Because Jack was cold. But Jamie hadn't seemed to mind. The thought brought a flush to her cheeks. She clamped her legs together. She wasn't used to thinking of any of the Guardians like that. They weren't supposed to be sexual! They were supposed to be these pure, loving figures who watched over children and kept them safe, made them happy.

Except, obviously Jamie didn't think of them that way. Didn't think of Jack Frost that way! There was no way this had been some kind of first time.

But surely even Jamie didn't think of the others like that. North was like, well, it would be like thinking of someone's grandpa as sexy! That was just wrong. And Sandy was all kinds of cuddly, like a plushie. Sophie couldn't think of him that way either. Tooth... well, Tooth was _pretty_ in a fashion Sophie could only sigh about, but she was half bird, so Sophie didn't know if she even had the same kind of anatomy as humans did. Let alone Bunny....

Sophie's thoughts paused. What was Bunny? Tooth at least looked half human, but Bunny was something else, anthropomorphic, that was the word. He definitely wasn't the same species Sophie was. Were there lady rabbits like him? Or was he the only one?

Her hand unconsciously drifted down to the junction of her thighs, seeking the warmth there.

Did Bunny's kind rut like bunnies? She tried to picture it. He was always so polite and civilized around her, but there was something raw and dangerous to him, too. She liked it. He had always made her feel safe.

Sophie's hand pressed firmer.

What would touching him feel like? He had the softest fur, and the gentlest hands.

Her hips rocked forward.

He was probably as old as forever, she reasoned. And wouldn't be interested in a skinny furless human like her.

But if he had been....

Her hand snuck into her pajama bottoms, and under her panties.

He could lay her out on the warm soft grass of the Warren, and nibble at her mouth. His soft fur would brush over her nipples, and his thick, gentle artist's fingers would creep between her legs and....

Sophie gasped, staring at the white ceiling of her room as a sudden orgasm washed over her, rocking her body like a small wave.

She... wasn't allowed to think of Bunny like that, was she? Sure, he was tall and buff and exotic, especially with that Australian accent, but... he was a Guardian.

Her special Guardian.

Like Jack was Jamie's.

Thoughts whirling, she stared at the ceiling for a long time before falling asleep.

* * *

Sophie managed to hold her questions in until Jamie came over for breakfast that Saturday, the way their mother had insisted he do every week since he'd graduated and moved back to Burgess. She waited until their mother had taken her mug of tea into the living room, leaving Sophie and Jamie scraping and rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. She fit her words together carefully. She'd been considering how to go about this for nearly an entire week.

"So," she said, handing her brother a plate, "you and Jack?"

Jamie froze for a second, then took the plate from her. "Yeah, he's back in town," he said lightly. "You've seen him?"

"I saw him," Sophie said blithely, rinsing a cup. "I also saw you. In the forest on Tuesday night."

Color drained from his face. "You _saw_?"

"Mm-hmm." Sophie handed him the cup. Thrust it at him when he failed to take it, until Jamie's hands actually closed around it. "You know I don't care if you're gay."

Jamie's mouth moved soundlessly for a minute. He slowly put the cup on the upper rack of the washer. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Sophie stopped. Turned to look at him. "Did someone give you shit for it?" she demanded. "Because, you know, I know Bunny, and I know North, and I'm pretty sure the two of them would be happy to deal out a world of pain--"

"No!" Jamie's blazing eyes met hers. "It wasn't me," he said. His eyes slid away, his mouth in a line. "It was someone I knew in college. The rest of us talked him into pressing charges. It went to court, and it was ugly, but the jackasses got what they deserved. Eventually."

It took a minute for her to find what she wanted to say. "You didn't tell us."

Jamie sighed. "I wasn't ready for you to know." His gaze flitted back to her in alarm. "You haven't told Mom, have you?"

" _No_. I'm not that kind of sister."

Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Sophie."

She nodded and turned back to the sink. "So," she said after a minute. "Jack?"

Jamie had a small smile. "Yeah. Jack."

"I thought you stopped believing."

Jamie's smile faded. "I did. But sophomore year I came down with a really bad flu right after winter break. He managed to break my fever, and I've been able to see him again ever since."

"Mmm." Sophie handed him the waffle platter. "So is he any good?"

Jamie choked. "Sophie!"

She smirked at his flush. "I guess he must be. You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself the other night." Her brother flushed deeper. "I am curious, though... that water had to be almost freezing. And that was an iceberg you guys were on. Naked. In winter."

Jamie stopped, then cast a wary look at the door to the living room. Not seeing their mother, he unfastened the top few buttons of his green dress shirt, then pulled his undershirt low, revealing what looked like a white scar on his chest.

Sophie blinked, and leaned closer. The scar looked like a snowflake. When she touched the mark, it felt cool. She looked back up at her brother. "What is that?"

Jamie started buttoning his shirt back up. "It's a little bit of his power," Jamie said. "It makes me immune to the cold he makes, and he can use it to make me immune to natural cold. It also kind of marks me as his, in case any spirits get any ideas."

Sophie blinked. Marked Jamie as Jack's...? "You're engaged?" she hissed.

"No!"

"You're _married_?!"

"What? No!"

"And you didn't invite me!"

Jamie flushed white then red, neither of which were a good look on him. "It's not like that!" he hissed back. "It's not married. It's...." His voice trailed off.

Sophie knew embarrassment when she saw it. "It's what?"

Jamie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "The official title is, I'm his consort. And, trust me, you wouldn't've wanted to be there for the ceremony."

"Why not?"

"Umm...." Jamie wouldn't meet her eyes.

Sophie stared. "You got married to Jack Frost through Sex Magick? When?"

Jamie gaped at her. "How do you even--"

"I had to do a paper on alternative religions," Sophie primly informed him, turning back to the sink. "Wicca was interesting to research; Aleister Crowley, however, was kinda creepy."

"Oh."

"So," she prompted, "when?"

"Last winter." Jamie put the last plate in the dishwasher, closed its door. "On the solstice."

Sophie was silent for a minute longer, then quietly asked, "So, it's allowed?"

"What's allowed?"

"Marrying a Guardian."

"Yeah." Jamie smiled a little ruefully. "North practically treats me like a son-in-law. It's kind of funny, actually."

"Mmm. So when are you going to tell Mom?"

"What, that I'm bi? Or that I'm married to someone she can't even see?"

"Either."

Jamie's mouth was a line. "As soon as I figure out a way for her to see Jack."

* * *

"Huh," was Jack's reaction to finding out that Sophie knew both about Jamie's sexuality and his bonded lover.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. "My baby sister catching us in the act only rates a 'huh'?"

From his position on the sofa (horizontal with his head on Jamie's lap), Jack waved a dismissing hand. "I'm sure she's seen worse on the Internet."

"Yes, but not me and you naked!"

Jack smirked. "I certainly don't mind seeing you naked. The rest of the world, though, can rack off, as Bunny would put it." Then his expression clouded.

Jamie, sensitive to Jack's moods, paused. "What's wrong?"

Jack sighed. And pushed up, so that he was sitting upright next to Jamie. "I'm not sure I should say anything."

"Jack...."

Jack sighed again. "Look, you know Bunny's really old, right?"

Jamie shrugged. "After a certain point, I thought age stopped mattering?"

"It does, yeah. But... really old, like old pagan meanings for Easter, old. Though not as old as Sandy." Jack looked thoughtful. "Which makes me wonder... no, no, not going there."

" _Jack_."

"North said something, when I was stressing at him after we slept together that first time. He said Bunny was maybe starting to look for a priestess of spring, if the girl believed long enough."

Jamie thought about it. Didn't like the implications. "Are you saying--" he started dangerously.

"I'm _saying_ , if Sophie keeps believing for a few more years, he might offer to court her." Jack examined Jamie's face. "It's not like he's going to kidnap her and force her or anything, Jamie! Bunny's not that type, you know that."

Jamie swallowed down big brother protective instincts. "So he'll, what, make her a... bride of spring or something? Jack, he's not even the same species as her!"

Jack was very quiet for a moment. "He's kind of private, and the others respect that and don't really talk about him, but... Pookas are shapeshifters, so maybe he can be human. I don't know. But I do know this." Blue eyes looked sharp into Jamie's brown. "He's the last one, Jamie. The absolute last one of his kind. Pitch slaughtered the rest of them, ages before I was even born."

Jamie swallowed. "Jesus." No wonder Bunny hated Pitch so much.

Jack nodded. "So... if he and Sophie end up making each other happy, I'm not going to object."

Jamie drew a shuddering breath. "And... if it was your sister?"

Jack grew still, eyes looking into memory. "I don't know," he admitted softly. "She was only ten when I died. I don't remember her as an adult." He breathed in, and out. "If it would have made both of them happy, though... I could've done a lot worse for a brother-in-law."

That, Jamie admitted, was true. He leaned back and considered for a while longer, watching the inane flickering images on the television screen. "You know what's going to suck the most, if he does convince her?"

"What?"

Jamie picked up the remote and shut the TV off. They hadn't been watching anything interesting anyway. "Figuring out how to tell Mom about you _and_ him."

Jack made a face. "Egh."

Jamie smirked. "Exactly." He leaned over and kissed his partner, tongue slipping inside Jack's cool, wet mouth.

"Mmm." Jack wiggled closer in appreciation.

Jamie drew back, smiled. His hand crept up under Jack's sweatshirt. "Want to have some fun?" he asked.

Jack's grin was luminescent. "You took the words right out of my mouth, J."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah, yeah, stealing the snowflake mark on Jamie from another of my stories,  Mark of Snow. Which, unlike this one, is totally gen and has Jamie and Jack in a best-friends relationship.


	4. Crazy On You

Apparently, Jack thought in distant, whirling shock, literature and higher maths weren't the only things Jamie had been studying at college.

"'Other guys'... 'some girls'," he managed to say between the harsh pants of his breath. "Should I ask about _numbers_?"

Jamie laughed, a rich, low sound, from where he lay against Jack's back. "Probably not?" he guessed. "How likely are you to get jealous and go freeze them?" His hand was warm, flat against Jack's stomach. His erection was hard, hot against Jack's ass.

He felt as floppy as cooked spaghetti, but somehow Jack managed to turn over and look into Jamie's eyes. "Freeze them?" he asked. "Maybe _thank_ them...."

At that, Jamie laughed again, amusement sparkling brilliant in his eyes even after Jack swallowed his laughter into a kiss.

Jack's stomach was still trembling with the force of his orgasm, as was the hole Jamie had so thoroughly explored with his tongue and fingers, and the nerves deep inside that those same fingers had teased to the point of making Jack incoherent. Jamie hadn't even _touched_ Jack's cock.

He hadn't needed to.

The mortal looked smug when he drew away from the kiss. "I wrecked Jack Frost," he said.

"And yet you still haven't fucked me," Jack pointed out.

Jamie's smile was soft and fond as he ran fingers down Jack's narrow hip. "I want you to love it like I do," he said. "Not everyone does. But it's such a fucking amazing feeling, Jack."

Jack hesitated, then ran his fingers down Jamie's hip, mirroring his lover's path. Delicate frost bloomed under his touch, melting almost instantly from Jamie's body heat. Jamie sucked in a breath. Jack watched his face carefully, looking for any hint of pain or /too much/. He didn't see any. "Is that all right?"

Jamie nodded, biting his bottom lip.

Daring, Jack trailed frost across Jamie's stomach, then... lower.

Jamie gasped, eyes going wide and glassy, at Jack's light touch. "Keep that up," he managed, "and I'm not going to be _able_ to fuck you."

Jack grinned wide, but obligingly skirted his fingers elsewhere, up Jamie's chest. Frost bloomed around ochre nipples like silvery flowers. It danced across Jamie's shoulders like an Olympic skater's trails on the ice. It swooped and swirled down his back like the path of the wild winter wind. Jack didn't let up, didn't stop frost-silvering his lover's body until Jamie was shivering.

And not with cold, either.

The college student growled and fastened his mouth to Jack's, swallowing the winter spirit's laughter.

_And Bunny thinks he's the only one who can paint,_ Jack thought, then let the thought go in favor of fumbling for the bottle of hand cream Jamie had set atop the minifridge at the head of the bed. He found it, pumped once, twice, squirting lotion into his hand. He slicked Jamie's cock, pumped once, twice.

The kiss broke off, Jamie hissing through his teeth. He was tousle-haired and wild-eyed, and absolutely perfect. "Jack--" He broke off, took several deep breaths, calming himself. Then he shifted, their legs tangling for a minute until Jack was on his back, Jamie above him. Jamie bent down, pressed a sweet, light kiss to Jack's mouth. "I'm going to make love to you," he promised, "until you can't think of anything else. Not Guardianship, not winter... nothing but me."

Jack's breath hitched at the promise. Jamie brushed another kiss to Jack's lips, then pushed up. His hands slid to Jack's hips. Jack's legs wrapped around Jamie easily, naturally, as he felt the head of his mortal lover's cock press up against his entrance. And then Jack was lost in sensation, hard again already as Jamie slowly, torturously, magnificently pushed inside.

Jack's voice cracked like winter ice as Jamie filled him, heat like an iron branding him from within. _Oh,_ he thought, surprised. He had never known he wanted this. He had never known he _needed_ this. There was a moment's breath when Jamie was in him all the way, a pause where they both gasped for breath, shocked blue meeting desperate brown.

And then Jamie started _moving_ like the tide surges of a winter sea, and it was all Jack could do to grasp Jamie's arms and hold on for sanity.

Heat was a thing that affected other people, not Jack Frost. It never even touched his skin; he radiated cold. But now the heat, human heat, was inside him, and it was thawing things he hadn't even realized were frozen. He gasped, he mewled. His blood pounded hot and high, rushing in his ears. He _begged_.

Jamie grinned, and stopped. Jack tried not to swear. "Arms around my shoulders, Jack," Jamie instructed.

It took Jack a long second to remember how his arms worked. When he did, Jamie put his own arms around Jack's waist then sat up, pulling Jack up with him.

Jack's eyes nearly crossed. He'd thought Jamie was in him deep before. It was nothing compared to this.

"Good?" Jamie asked. His voice was light, almost teasing.

Jack growled. "Jamie," he said, "fuck me."

Jamie laughed, and his hands moved back to Jack's hips. Somehow--where did he get the leverage?--he did, pistoning into Jack like he was born to do it. Every movement hit the exact right spot. Jack's cock rubbed slick against Jamie's stomach, the sensation making his toes curl. Jack gasped for breath, couldn't seem to find enough--

The world suddenly went white. He came cold between their bodies, shaking like a leaf in a winter breeze.

Jamie gasped. "Oh, fuck, Jack--" His hips were pistoning harder than ever, still hitting that one perfect spot. Oversensitive, Jack mewled, his cock sliding slick in his own come.

It seemed like forever. It was only a half-dozen strokes. Then Jamie, buried more deeply than ever, stilled, his hands bruising on Jack's hips. His voice broke on unintelligible words.

Heat blossomed, liquid and impossible, deep inside Jack.

Jack bit Jamie's shoulder to silence the scream of pleasure. His fingernails bit into the skin of his lover's back. His cock spurted again, almost painful, as he clenched tightly around the pumping rod inside him.

He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

Jack Frost went away.

* * *

He came back to himself sometime later, laying atop Jamie, their bodies still connected in a way that sent slow echoes of pleasure rippling through Jack. He resisted the urge to moan. Jamie's hand was in Jack's hair, softly stroking. Jamie's eyes were closed. Except for the constant petting motion, Jack would have thought him asleep.

It took two tries before he could speak. "Jamie?"

Brown eyes opened, fastened on Jack's face. Jamie smiled. "I think you've ruined me for any mortal lover."

"I've ruined _you_?" Indignant, Jack tried to sit up. Which was a mistake, because, even spent, Jamie's length inside him made Jack's breath catch. This time he couldn't help the moan.

Jamie's own breath stuttered out between his teeth. His hands went to Jack's ass, coaxed him to scoot forward. Slowly, Jamie's cock slipped from Jack. Jack took a moment to appreciate the loss, then collapsed by Jamie's side.

It took a moment, but he found words again. "Some people _don't_ like that?"

Jamie grinned. "Beats me too." He paused. "I wasn't imagining it--you came twice, right?"

Jack blinked. "That's... not normal?"

Still grinning, Jamie shook his head.

Jack flushed. "It felt really good when you came inside me. All hot...."

"Wait... you have a temperature fetish?" Jamie's eyes grew wide, his expression delighted. He started giggling.

"What--I do not!" Jack protested. " _You_ do!" Jamie didn't stop giggling.

After a moment, Jack grinned, and joined in the laughter.

(They would later find that both accusations were correct. And that if they actually wanted to spend a night /sleeping/ together, they both had to wear pajamas. Otherwise, one or the other would end up slowly rutting against their partner's thigh, waking in the middle of the night with a moan and a /need/.)

(For now, however, Jack and Jamie just held onto one another, laughing.)

* * *

**Author's Note:** Obviously set shortly after the end of chapter 2. Written for Rahar_Moonfire, who asked for a full bottom!Jack smex scene. Hopefully this satisfied? And, for anyone who got the sense that Jamie was maybe a wee bit promiscuous during his first year and a half of college... yes. Yes, he was. Which kind of stops cold (forgive the pun) at this point.


End file.
